


Timmy Trouble

by Dirge



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Belly Rubs, Fat Shaming, Jack is horrible, M/M, Stuffing, gastric bypass, mentions of vomit, one (1) boner, surgery without consent, this is not fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:57:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirge/pseuds/Dirge
Summary: Usually Jack's office just smelled like leather or recycled air.  Right now it smelled delicious.  Coming closer, Tim realized the source.  Instead of the usual papers and blueprints, Jack's desk was piled high with....food?





	Timmy Trouble

Timmy knew he was in trouble. There were only two reasons Jack ever called him up to his office: for a mission briefing or to dress him down for his latest mistake. Despite refreshing the app several times, his schedule still indicated a lack of any missions today. So that left a punishment. On the way up in the elevator, Timmy considered dejectedly which of his actions Jack had taken offense to this time. He'd done his hair perfectly all week, worn all the appropriate clothing, said all the things he was supposed to at the various events... Even if that one banquet had ended a little early. Nobody there seemed to mind. He'd managed a pretty good excuse for leaving he thought. The elevator dinged to indicate he'd reached the desired level and Timmy's heart leapt into his throat. Facing Jack never got easier, no matter how many times he was forced to do it. He stepped into the office on wobbly legs, perfect teeth grinding nervously against each other. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Usually Jack's office just smelled like leather or recycled air. Right now it smelled delicious. Coming closer, Tim realized the source. Instead of the usual papers and blueprints, Jack's desk was piled high with....food? 

"Get over here already," a voice said, slightly muffled, as the speaker apparently had their mouth full. It was Jack, of course, motioning with a hand over a plate of fried rakk wings. Timmy inched dutifully around the desk turned buffet, giving his boss a bewildered look. The amount of food there could feed a committee. 

"Uhm. What's the- who is this all for?" Tim stammered, overwhelmed by the intermingling scents of meat, grease, and baked goods. 

Jack swallowed what he'd been chewing before speaking this time. "Just having a little breakfast, kiddo. Pass me that box." 

Tim had to search a little through the pile of plates to find the indicated box. Oh no, was that....pineapple pizza? Oh god, Tim hadn't been in the same room as one of those since the operation. He handed Jack his absolute favorite food with a soft sigh of longing. Of course all he'd had this morning was his usual protein shake. 

Jack grinned and eagerly snatched up a slice, biting off a dripping bit of cheese. "You know, I don't usually order it with pineapple. For some reason I just felt like it today," he purred, licking some grease from his lips. Timmy made a soft non-committal sound and nodded, eyes flicking away from Jack's mouth. "Might have overdone it a little bit here though. Go ahead, have whatever you want." Jack gestured out over the bounty, kicking back in his chair and working on the rest of the pizza slice. 

Tim swallowed and glanced at the plates of food, already knowing there was nothing there he could possibly be allowed to eat. "I-I'm sorry, there's... None of this is on my list... I can't," he mumbled, feeling the familiar disappointment run through him. It had taken him months to get over the initial depression after the operation. His favorite foods were all off limits and the list of approved ones was short and strict. Too strict, he'd thought at the time. That was until he'd spent several days getting acquainted with the toilet. He really just couldn't eat any of that stuff anymore. Jack had made sure of it.

"Oh yeah, that's right. Guess I just forgot there for a second, Tim-Tam! Because of the tummy tuck, huh?" Jack laughed, picking up a bottle of beer and chugging it down. 

"Gastric bypass," Tim corrected quietly. 

"Right right, because you were such a damn fatty when we found you. Man, remember that? You had the chubbiest frickin cheeks, it was hilarious."

Nothing about it had been hilarious. They had conveniently forgotten to mention that operation before he'd signed the contract. He knew he'd have to exercise and go on a diet, but he had been all gung ho for that really. Having a personal trainer and access to wholesome foods that really only the rich could get their hands on? Sign him up! Except that Jack had different ideas. He wanted a quicker, more permanent solution. I don't trust you to keep it off, he'd said while signing the order for a bypass to be done. And then life had been utter hell for months. But it didn't matter. He was the perfect weight now, wiry with a bit of muscle, Jack's spitting image. Forever.

"Taking your vitamins?" 

Tim looked up, snapping out of the nightmarish reverie. "Yes sir," he answered meekly. 

"Good," Jack said, pausing to belch after finishing the beer. "Oof. Good shit. Been dehydrated lately?"

"No. I've been drinking water." Tim made a face as his boss crammed a cinnamon bun into his mouth. What was this all about? Why the hell was Jack eating so much for breakfast? The man forgot to eat so much as an egg half the time. There's no way he could eat the insane amount of stuff here. "Did you need me for something?" Tim tried, hoping that would remind Jack to get to the point.

"So. Let me get this straight. You've been doing everything the doctors told you. Eating right, drinking water, taking pills..." Jack counted them off on his fingers, pausing to lick icing off his index and thumb. 

"Yes!" Tim hurried to assure him, because it was true. Jack silenced him with a glare- the first indication so far that he was angry. Timmy felt sick all of a sudden.

"Then what the hell is this?" Jack snatched up his tablet from the desk and threw it at the doppleganger. Tim barely managed to catch it, glancing down in horror at the article pulled up on the screen. 

"S-stomach troubles...for Handsome...CEO..." he read, chest tightening with every word. The accompanying picture nearly made him drop the tablet. It was him, in the bathroom at the banquet, bent over a toilet as he threw up. The angle was such that he wouldn't have seen the person who took it.

"O-oh god... I thought- I thought no one was in there... Jack, you have to believe me, I didn't know. They didn't say anything!" Tim whimpered, holding the tablet so tight his knuckles were turning white. 

"I don't give a shit! Why were you throwing up in the first place, you worthless crap-bag?! You weren't sick and you claim you were following your diet!" Jack snarled, grabbing Timmy by the collar and shaking him.

"N-nerves! I was nervous! I promise I didn't eat anything bad!" he wailed, knowing those fingers could be around his throat any minute now, squeezing the breath out of him. 

"Bullshit. If you can't handle yourself at a banquet, then I'll get a new body double that isn't a greedy little nerd! You want to look like your gross old self again, Tim-Tam? You don't like the new body I so graciously gave you?" Jack released him, pushing him backwards so that he lost his balance and fell on his butt. It hurt. There wasn't much padding there and Jack's floors were polished marble. 

"No! No, I do! I don't want- I don't... Please, Jack... I didn't eat anything.... N-nothing at all, i-in fact. I didn't want to screw up, so... I just got too nervous about the speech part." Tears pricked at the corners of Tim's eyes, forbidden freckles showing up on his shame reddened cheeks. He kept his head down, knowing those always pissed Jack off. The boss was glaring down at him from his chair, miss-matched eyes like skewers. 

"I don't think you understand, cupcake," he hissed, jabbing a finger at Timmy. "You have to be the perfect me. Always. Every minute of your pathetic little life. You can't have a 'cheat day'. You can't accidently eat too much. And you sure as shit can't embarrass me in public because you can't deal with being around good food without shoving it in your face!"

Timmy cringed at the tirade, feeling stupid and fat and weak- everything he'd been before Jack cut up his body and put it back together. Tears rolled down his cheeks unbidden and he gripped his head, shrinking into himself. 

"I'm sorry, Jack, I'm s-sorry," he sobbed, shoulders shaking. 

Jack was silent. It was suffocating- the smell of too much food, the heavy weight in the air, the bile in his throat. "Get up."  
Tim obeyed the order clumsily, standing before the desk and trying to scrub away the tears with his sleeve. 

"Stop crying. I can't stand seeing myself like that," Jack snapped. "Now listen. I spent too much on you just to throw you away. Come here." He gestured with a hand and Tim came closer, trying his best to just absorb all the tears that still wanted to leak from his eyes. He startled when Jack put his palm on the back of his neck and pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. This close, Tim could smell the beer and pizza on Jack's breath.

"That's why I'm gonna help you. I ordered all this junk for a reason." His boss grinned and leaned back, patting Tim on the shoulder. "Mostly as a punishment but, you know. An endurance test kind of thing too."

"W....what?" Timmy blinked, staring at Jack's plastic smile. Talk about emotional whiplash.

"You don't get it? Come on, don't be dumb, pumpkin. You obviously need another lesson in self-control. You can't screw up my body- but I can." The grin grew wider. "For teaching purposes, of course." 

Timmy remained quiet, realization slowly trickling in. "These are....all my favorite foods, aren't they?" he said softly. He'd almost forgotten what they looked like, smelled like- definitely what they tasted like. "You're...?"

"Yup. I'm gonna eat all of this in front of you, sweetheart. You're not leaving 'till I finish!" Jack declared, rubbing his palms together wickedly. "And you're not gonna cry or throw up or ask me for any of it, are you?"

Tim shook his head. 

"Thatta boy. This'll make you stronger, kiddo. Now pass me another beer and let's get this over with." 

Despite Jack's pretense that he was making an honorable sacrifice for Tim's benefit, he sure sounded like he was enjoying stuffing himself silly. He made Tim hand him each plate, making appreciative sounds as he ate, commenting on the flavor or the cooking. Of course, he would say it was all an act to make things hard for Timmy, but the body double could tell by now when Jack was having fun. He guessed his boss hadn't had a 'cheat day' in a while. Jack didn't have the gastric bypass though, so the consequences wouldn't be as bad as they would for Tim. He felt sick and jealous at the same time watching Jack slurp down a chocolate shake, the straw of which he flicked at Timmy with a chuckle. He hadn't enjoyed eating since the surgery... and honestly he figured he never would again. It used to be a comfort thing. Now he was just tormented by it. 

"How much pizza's left?" Jack asked, pointing at the last box. 

Tim picked it up, staring down at the contents forlornly. His own stomach growled unhappily. "One piece," he replied finally, offering the box. 

Jack pushed it away. "Grab it and c'mere," he ordered. 

Timmy fished it out obediently and stood in front of his boss. Jack opened his mouth and pointed down his throat, indicating Tim should feed him the slice. Grimacing, the body double did as he was asked, holding it between his boss's lips as he took a bite. Jack watched him the whole time, making the affair overly sensual by groaning softly and licking his lips afterwards. Tim's cheeks flushed red again and he had to turn away in fear his freckles would resurface. 

"Thanks, babe," Jack purred, just to make it worse. He leaned back in his chair with a grunt, flicking open the clasps on his vest. Good lord, he was not used to eating this much. When had been the last time he'd actually bothered to indulge? Maybe that week when he'd first taken his position from Tassiter... he seemed to remember a lot of pizza and ice cream. Either way, Timothy looked positively devastated and that was exactly what he'd been going for. It was totally worth it, even if he was uncomfortably full now. He squirmed a little in his chair, trying to get comfortable. 

"Are you okay, sir?" 

Jack shot Tim a glare, which made the body double flinch. "I'm fine! Feeling great. Damn Tim, you really are missing out though. The food has been incredible," he gloated, while subtly reaching under the desk in order to unbuckle his belt. "What's next?"

"Uhm..." Tim surveyed the carnage. "Just... this piece of cake. Triple chocolate with almond shavings." He sighed softly at it as he brought the plate over to Jack. God, he missed the taste of that cake. His stomach growled again, louder this time.

"Someone's got a jealous tummy," Jack teased, brandishing the fork. Tim looked embarrassed, covering his front with a hand. He watched his boss take a bite, making a comment about how ridiculously rich the frosting tasted. As usual, despite the fact he was Jack, Timothy found himself wishing he was Jack. 

The cake was really good. The problem was, his stomach was indicating that there wasn't any room for it. Jack hid a wince on his second bite, pressing a palm to the side of his gut gingerly under the table. The baggy yellow sweater was riding up a bit now, exposing taut, pink flesh. Shifting in his seat again, Jack had to stifle a pained groan. Too bad he couldn't cover the noise of his protesting belly, a loud gurgle rolling through it as air bubbles made their way to the surface. He belched into his hand, trying to look casual about it in front of Timmy. It freed up some space at least for him to finish more of the cake.

Tim could tell his boss was really struggling now. Jack was good at hiding pain, but this was something he was not used to dealing with. Timmy was much more well acquainted with a stomach ache after an impulsive binge. "Maybe just... leave the rest of the cake?" he offered, feeling bad despite the fact he was being punished.

"What, so you can sneak some? No way, asshole," Jack snarled, ignoring the pressure in his stomach and forcing the rest of the decadent dessert down. It hurt and made him hiccup violently, which hurt even worse. Jack gasped and bent over his desk, struggling to breathe. Each intake of air pressed on his overfull stomach, causing a sharp ache.

"Shit....Ah...." he hissed, holding his middle. He squinted at Timothy, shoving down embarrassment. Handsome Jack did not get embarrassed. 

"Damnit Tim, this is all your fault. Come fix it, before I airlock your stupid ass!" he barked, banging a fist on the desk. Startled, the body double knelt before him, shaky hands hovering uncertainly over the other's body. 

"W-what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"See if you can reach my friggin pants button," Jack grumbled, arching his back a bit to keep his gut from digging too hard into the waistband. Heat rushing to his cheeks, Tim hurried to do as he was told, heart jumping as his fingers brushed the flesh of Jack's swollen belly. For his part, the boss made a strangled noise as Tim's fingernails scrabbled at the crotch of his pants, finding the button finally and undoing it. He exhaled loudly in relief as his stomach was given more room to spread out on his lap, angry red marks were his pants had been digging into it. 

"Oh thank god... That's better," he wheezed, closing his eyes and taking a few breaths. It wasn't easy, but it hurt less now. "Being a fat nerd sucks..."

Tim scooted away, ready to leave now. He was sure Jack wouldn't want him to see him suffer. Except that as he did so, he felt his wrist being grasped. 

"Uh uh. You're not done. I still feel like crap," Jack complained, tugging on Tim's arm like a petulant child. 

"Uh- what should I-?"

"I don't know, you're the one who's dealt with stuff like this before! Just..." If it weren't for the mask, Tim would swear Jack was blushing. Probably because the tips of his ears were red. The hand holding his arm guided his palm beneath Jack's yellow sweatshirt. Tim nearly choked. His fingers twitched in terror, which apparently felt nice, because his boss was sighing softly? Oh god, was he supposed to.... To....

"You want me to rub your stomach?" Tim asked, his tone incredulous. Jack's teeth ground together so hard they made an audible clack noise. He looked fiercely embarrassed- an emotion Timmy had never ever seen the CEO display. 

"I don't care! Do whatever!" he snarled, nearly kneeing Timothy in the crotch. The body double hurried to start stroking, the rough pads of his fingers skittering hesitantly over Jack's round belly. 

"Not like that! It frickin tickles!" the other man protested, pressing Tim's hand flat against his skin. It was suddenly...way too warm in Jack's office. Tim tugged at his collar as he massaged more firmly but still gently, drawing long, grateful groans from his boss. They must have looked ridiculous. Not for the first time, Tim was glad the office was locked. He was basically straddling Jack's knee at this point, two twins that no longer looked alike, petting and stroking at the suffering CEO's overstuffed gut. It gave several small gurgles of appreciation as he rubbed, working hard on digesting the ludicrous amount of food forced down into it in such a short amount of time. Jack clearly no longer cared what he sounded like- his head was tilted back, eyes closed. He startled once when Tim accidently slipped a thumb into his navel, but settled again as the body double hurried to move away from the sensitive area. Tim had no idea how to feel about the situation. It probably hadn't gone as Jack planned and the atmosphere was suddenly weirdly intimate. He really wanted to leave, but didn't dare try again until Jack told him he could. Which the boss currently didn't seem inclined to do at all. In fact, he was settling in more, arching his back and pressing his stomach into Tim's hands. 

"Mn... You suck for making me do this..." he sighed, sounding like he was enjoying it instead of complaining. Tim kept his mouth shut, knowing that protesting would only piss Jack off. He concentrated instead on gently rubbing the boss's sides, soothing the bloated organ straining beneath. He was spacing out and staring at Jack's lap when he realized the CEO's underwear was suspiciously tight. Tim froze when his brain realized what was going on, earning him an unhappy grumble from Jack.

"I didn't tell you to stop, kiddo," he said, eyes opening so he could glare at Timothy.

"I know, sir- Uh, but. You uhm. You. I don't feel comfortable doing this anymore!" Tim squeaked, withdrawing his hands and pointing at Jack's crotch. 

"What the heck are you-" Jack looked down, turning scarlet behind the mask as he realized he had a goddamn boner. "Get out!" he barked, throwing Timmy off his knee and jabbing the unlock button on the office door. Tim scrambled to obey, looking equally flustered by the situation as he fled the scene with a terrified yelp. 

Jack watched the doors slam shut behind him, heart beating unsteadily in his chest. What the hell had just happened? Why did he have a half chub from a freaking belly rub? He scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to will away the unexplainable boner. It was alright- shit like that happened all the time to guys. You just got randomly hard sometimes, big deal! It had nothing to do with the situation. Stupid freaking Timmy. It was probably from looking at himself. Yeah. He was hot after all- that made sense. Jack nodded, assured that he was normal. Now he just had to go...lie down for a bit. Sleep off this wicked stomachache. It was worth it as long as Tim had suffered. Totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Because this fandom needs more belly stuff and I somehow managed to hyperfocus and write this all at once.


End file.
